Signed, Richard J Grayson
by LordOfTheBooks
Summary: Richard John Grayson has just lost everything. His family, his life, even his happiness. He just needs someone to talk to...someone who will listen. Who better than a pencil and a notebook?
1. Welcome to my Life

**I just feel like writing. I don't know where I'm going with this…but I just have to do ****_something. _****You see, I just saw The Great Gatsby and since I'm more of the intellectual type… I can't get it out of my mind. I can't stop thinking about how Gatsby's Achilles heel was that he believed he could live in the past, and that he thought money could bring him happiness. And then there's the whole American dream…I'm sorry, I know I'm ranting. But I just have to get it out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice.**

_July 17_

I hate my life. I hate what has happened to me, and I hate the current situation I'm in. But at least I'm still alive; that's what I keep telling myself to not lose hope. Because if I lose hope, I'm dead. It's that simple.

Don't ask me why I'm writing; I'm not so sure myself. I guess it's because I need to talk to someone, even if that someone is a dirty old notebook I "found". If I don't talk to someone-_anyone- _then I'm afraid I'll lose the last think I have left-my sanity.

You see, it all happened just a few measly months ago. Who would have thought that the strength of ropes would matter _so much _in one eight-year-old's life?

My mother was a beautiful woman-one of the most beautiful you have probably ever seen. She had the perfect golden curls, almond-shaped incredible blue eyes, and a unique olive colored tan. Her mother was originally from Greece, but moved to Italy when she was sixteen. She met an Italian acrobat, and the two fell in love. My mom grew up learning acrobatics. She started her training the day she was born.

My father, on the other hand, was full Romanian and born in a family who lived at the circus as acrobats. I get most of my likeness from him; he had hazel brown eyes, shaggy unmanageable black hair, pale skin, and was on the leaner side. Everyone said I looked just like him, except I have my mother's eyes.

But I'm getting off topic now. Anyway, like my father, I grew up with my family in the circus. It was my mother Marina, my father Jace, my aunt Karla, my uncle Richard, and my cousin, who was named after my dad, Jace. We were the best of families; the closest too. Not only that, we were one of the best acrobatic groups in the world. We were the ones that made Haley's International Traveling Circus so famous in both good and bad ways.

It all happened a night like any other. I was headed for bed-there was a show tomorrow, and I was up a little late. But when I passed Haley's office, I head him shouting at someone. Haley was the kind of person who only raised his voice of he needed, so I was curious as to why he was doing so. I heard Haley saw something like "I don't fall for bluffs! I don't need your protection money!"

There was another guy, though. He was a tall, lanky man with oil that slicked back his hair, and cigar lazily sticking out of his mouth, and he smelled like tobacco. "I assure you, you'll find that you do."

Haley glared at the man and said, "I assure _you, _that I don't."

The man simply shrugged and said, "Hey, it's your loss, buddy."

As I heard footsteps come closer towards the door, I backed away quickly. The man opened the door, and spotted me. He gave me a sickening smile as he dropped his cigar to the ground, and stepped on it. "Hey, kid, what little act are _you _apart of?"

I almost flinched away in disgust as his breath that reeked of alcohol wafted towards my nose. I barely whispered out, "The Flying Grayson's."

As much as I hate to admit it, I wish I had said any other act. _Any other. _I hate myself for thinking that, but it's the truth.

The man smiled wider, ruffled my hair and said, "You know; I might just watch you preform. How great would _that _be, huh?"

I said nothing as I tried not to recoil from the man's physical contact. The man picked up a hat off the hat rack, and walked away.

Mr. Haley walked out of the office with a dissatisfied expression on his face. "Haley, who was that?" I asked.

Haley looked at me, smiled and said, "No one important, Dick. Why don't you go to bed now, huh? I bet your mother's worried about you."

I wasn't so sure about the man being, _no one important. _But because I was a little kid and I listened to other people, I brushed aside my worry and went to bed.

When I was climbing into bed that night, my cousin Jace, who I shared a room with, was on the computer doing who knows what.

Let me tell you about my cousin Jace. He was a _genius. _I mean, as soon as I could read he started to teach me the wonderful world of technology. He taught me how to hack into the government by the time I was six. I know, that sounds incredible; a six year old that can hack into the government. But the really incredibly thing is Jace taught himself everything he taught me. Sure, technically I'm a genius, but Jace was on Einstein level. He always talked about looking at the big picture, and then finding all the little details that there _would _be no picture without. He told me that was one way to succeed. I don't completely understand him, and I don't know if I ever will.

"Hey little buddy," he said. "Going to bed?"

I nodded and said, "You should too."

Jace shut his laptop and said, "Yeah, you're right."

I looked at him crawl in bed and said, "What were you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow at me and said, "Hacking into the government's data base. Don't tell my mom, though; she already threatened to send to juvenile hall."

"But isn't that illegal?" I asked.

"Think of it this way," he said. "I'm undetectable, I don't do anything with the information other than I'm just curious, so no harm done, right? Besides; no one but you knows I do it. They have nothing to worry about; all their little secrets will die with me."

At the time, what he said didn't really bother me. Now that I think about it, it makes me want to throw up.

After a while, I asked Jace, "Hey Jace, do you believe in God?"

Jace thought for a minute and said, "You know, it's just human nature to want to believe we will all be saved; that we will all live in paradise in the end, and no one ever _really _dies. But, if you believe that, then the question is that were does everything _come _from? I know that a tree comes from a seed, and the tree _makes _a seed, but what made that possible? I believe that if God exists, then he would work a little like that. There will always be the question of how everything began. People can say that God created it all, but where did God come from? I believe that however it works, it works like a circle. I'm still not exactly sure, but the circle theory I have, if I can figure out all its complexities, explains everything."

It didn't really make since to me; it was like he was saying the circle was the answer to everything. And he really didn't answer my question of if he believed in God or not. "Do you believe in the afterlife?"

Jace took a deep breath and said, "Sort of. I always thought that the afterlife is a pit stop to your next life. You stay there for a period of time before you move on to your next life."

"So, nothing ever really dies?"

"It's a possibility, but yeah, I guess that's what I said. Hey, Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Goodnight."

"'night."

I slept peacefully that night.

I don't know if I'm ready to really say, or write, what happens next. It still hurts too much, though from what I understand, it will never get any better.

So for now, I'll just leave at least one entry with my happy memories. At least a few of them. Sometimes I like to remember how magical and wonderful my like used to be, but it usually results in it being too painful and I start to cry.

I know I can tell you everything and that you won't judge me because you're just a scrap of paper with graphite shavings all over you. But I still can't find it in me to open myself up that much just yet, not matter who, or what, you are.

Goodbye for now, I guess.

Richard J. Grayson

**Okay, like I said, I don't know exactly where I am going with this. I think I'm going to make it AU where Bruce never adopts Dick. I'm also going to shake it up a bit. But, if this gets no reviews, I might not continue. I'm serious when I say I've never been more desperate for reviews than I am right now. So come on, guys; I doesn't take any longer that two minutes. Just ****_please _****review. ****_Please. _**


	2. Pretty Boy

**Thank you for all the awesome reviews! Please; keep it up! I have decided this is an AU and Bruce Wayne never adopted Dick Grayson. I'll involve the team later on, though.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice. **

_September 10 2005_

Hello notebook, it's me again. As I said last time, I'm not ready to talk about everything that happened, so I'll just skip that part.

After they all died, everyone claimed it was an accident; a horrible, tragic accident. I can't believe no one even looked into it! I mean all they had to do was check the ropes. But the police department was too lazy for even that.

Haley and a few other members of the circus wanted to take me in, you know, adopt me. Apparently, growing up in the circus was not an appropriate upbringing for a small child. With the parents dead and no known relative of "the child", the child is a ward of the state, and therefore, the state decides what the best thing to do with the child is.

Haley was fighting mad and wanted to take the case to court, claiming "the child" needed to be with his family and friends he had known all his life, not some sterile facility. However, the officer said that bringing "the child" in the middle of a court case right after "the child's" family has died was the worst thing he could do.

Haley said a tearful goodbye to me, and said we'll definitely meet again someday. I'm not so sure, though.

It was a weird since of deja vu seeing the circus pack up and leave without me going with it. I wondered if that was how it felt for all the other kids to watch the wonderful fairyland of the circus leave town. I also wondered how many kids had been permanently scarred for life after Haley's last show. I didn't know, but I did know at least one too many.

They attempted to get me into one of the orphanages for boys, but they were all full. There was literally no room for me. At first I was grateful; you don't know how bad they were, and each one I was taken to was worse than the last. I remember the last one I went to had rotting walls and furniture, smelled like a sick combination between vomit, urine and human feces, and there was _always _a baby crying. I was especially grateful that one was full. That is until I saw the place I _would _be living.

The only place left for kids like me who had no one and nothing was one of the worst places on Earth; Gotham's Juvenile Detention Hall, otherwise known and, Juvie. Granted, it didn't have the seriously unsanitary conditions that some of the orphanages had, but it had other…_attributes _that made up for it.

It was like prison, only everyone was smaller. They brought me to a huge metal door that had a window the size of a small laptop with bar grating. It slid open  
with a big metal bang, and I was shoved inside. The officer that brought me inside slid the door shut with another metal _bang. _

I looked at my roommate, a boy who looked a few years older than me with dark eyes, dark hair, and a pale face. He pointed to a bed across from the one he was sitting on and said, "Your bed," then he pointed to the one he was sitting in and said, "My bed. I don't like people on _my _bed. "Get it?"

I didn't say anything, but simply nodded. The boy raised his eyebrows and said, "You don't talk much, do you? Good; I don't like a blabber. Hey, what's in that notebook of yours?"

I didn't want to look suspicious, and I thought that his low-functioning brain wouldn't be interested in anything with words, so I let him have a look. He flipped through it, and then tossed it aside. "Anything else they let you sneak in here?" he asked. I shook my head honestly. He shrugged and jumped on his bed. "So, what're you in for?"

I shrugged and said, "A mishap."

The guy looked at me upon hearing my accent, and started laughing. "Dude, if that's your real voice I can't blame you for not talking. A mishap, eh? Aren't they always? Anyway, names Rump. What're you called?"

I figured he would probably make fun of my nick name if I told him, so instead of saying "Dick", I said, "Richard. Why's your name 'Rump'?"

"Well Richey boy, do you know what I got in for?" When I shook my head he said, "Mooning people in public places. I did it so much that I became a hazard, and actually caused some car crashes. Pretty soon I became legendary, and I earned the name 'Rump'."

Personally, I thought that that was a pretty stupid reason to go to Juvie. "That's dumb. Why didn't you just stop?"

"Why didn't I stop? You're stupid, aren't you, Richey boy? Well, I personally saw no harm done. It's the _drivers _fault that he thought my rump was distracting. Don't you agree?" I nodded, not wanting to get on the wrong side of my new roommate, "Rump."

A bell rang, and we were let out into a large area to socialize with the other kids. Rump slapped me on the back and said, "Let me introduce you to mu gang, Richey boy."

Rump led me to a group that consisted of five different boys. He pointed to a big fat one and said, "That's Bulk," next to a tall thin one with each eye going a different direction, "Lizard," over to a guy who was so ugly, he literally frightened me, "Hatchet Face," next to a nervous jumpy guy whose hair stood up on end, "Twitch," and last to a small shifty boy who was twittering his thumbs, "And last and definitely least, Terminator."

"Hey Rump, whose the pretty boy?" asked Lizard.

Rump looked at me like he was testing out Lizard's description of me. "Hey guys, this is Richey Boy, my new roommate."

"Really, Rump? That's the _best _you could come up with?" said Twitch.

"Hey, cut me some slack. People _earn _their nicknames, aye?" said Rump.

"I guess," said Terminator.

Bulk crossed his arms and said, "Runt could be a vampire with how pale he is dark hair, and pretty face. Reminds me of the vampires from Twilight."

"Vampire, eh? Is that you're name now, Pretty Boy?" asked Hatched Face bending down to my eye level. I figured the best way to act like is stupid so they don't get suspicious of me. Even though they seemed semi-friendly, I didn't want to take my chances with any of them; even Terminator. They all ended up here for a reason.

"I think Pretty Boy suits the kid best," said Lizard. "What'd you say, Rump?"

"I think you're right, my ugly friend," said Rump.

Lizard glared at Rump and said, "Who're you calling' ugly, butt?"

"Dude; first of all, I'm Rump, not Butt, and second of all, you're eyes go different directions. Of _course _you're uglier than shit," said Rump.

Lizard laughed and said, "The little ass has got a point. Hey Pretty Boy; how old are you anyway?"

I gave him a brief glance before I said, "Eight."

Twitch whistled and said, "You musta done _somthin' _bad to end up here so young."

"I already tried to get it out of 'em, but all he says was it was a mistake," said Rump.

"Rump, respect the kids privacy," said Terminator. "He just got here, after all. He's probably a little scared."

"Yeah, cut him some slack," said Hatchet Face.

Rump rolled his eyes and said, "What'd you think I'm doing? C'mon, Pretty Boy. We'll show you around the place, even though there ain't much to see."

Granted, they weren't exactly the _nicest _boys, but I guess I was lucky to spend my time with them because there were a lot _worse _kids there. For instance, Neanderthal. He was the worst one there. The incidence happened about two weeks after I showed up. Apparently, I accidently sat in Neanderthal's seat and no one told me until it was too late.

I sat down, and all of a sudden, this huge guy seven years older than me walks up, points to the seat I'm sitting in, and said, "You're in my seat, kid."

Not wanting to cause any trouble, I get up and hold out my hands in a position of surrender. By this point, everyone in the mess hall had gone silent. Neanderthal smiled, cracked his knuckles and said, "Too late."

He tried to hit me, but I dived to the side. For a minute, he was caught off guard, and just stared at me. He quickly regained poster and tried to grab me. I jumped out of his reach, and rolled in between his legs when I hit the ground. This "dance" of ours went on for another few minutes, and I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

People started chanting my name, or my nickname, "Pretty Boy! Pretty Boy! Pretty Boy!"

After about seven minutes, Neanderthal was _so _mad that he just flat out lunged for me. My eyes widened as I leapt out of the way again, and he fell onto the seat he so desperately wanted to sit in. People started cheering, but everything stopped as "The Warden" walked in.

Ms. Bumblebottom was an extremely broad woman with her hair always tied back in a tight bun, and a huge, fat mole underneath her lip. She had crooked teeth that carried the stench of rotted cheese as she said, "What happened here?"

Everyone pointed to Neanderthal and me saying all different sorts of things while I couldn't pick out a single word underneath all that jabber.

"_SILENCE!" _screamed Ms. Bumblebottom. She pointed to me with a meaty hand and said, "Follow me; _now." _I knew better than to say I didn't do anything, so I just followed her to her office.

"Mr. Grayson is that correct?" she said.

I nodded and said, "That's right."

"What an _unusual _accent. I know; you're that circus boy they didn't have room for at the orphanages. That's surprising; I wouldn't usually expect a reject to be the one to start a fight."

_Reject. _So I went from being Richard, to Richey Boy, to Vampire, to Pretty Boy, to Circus Boy, to _Reject. _Though, I couldn't say I was surprised she had called me that.

Ms. Bumblebottom gave me a one-over, and said, "Well, since you're not a real inmate here, and it was only your first fight, I'll let it slide."

She walked towards the door and I thought she was going to let me out, until she locked it. She made sure no one could look in, and then she walked towards me. She whispered close to my ear, "You are not to make a sound, and _no one _is to know of this."

I didn't know what she was talking about, so I just nodded. She gave me that horrible crooked teeth smile, and started, well, _undressing _me. I was _really _confused when she started to _touch _and _feel _me places. The worst part though was the grabbing, and her keeping her hands _there _for a very, very long time. All the while she was kissing me. I really don't know what she was doing only that it was a very uncomfortable and horrible experience. I can't stop thinking of all those horrible sensations, and all her _touching, _and _feeling, _and _grabbing. _After what seemed like ages, she put my orange jumpsuit back on and said, "Because you have little temperament issues that you've demonstrated with who everyone call Neanderthal, you will meet me here at my office once a week for counseling. Don't worry; I'll send someone to get you."

I was, and still am, pretty shell-shocked so I just deafly nodded, and walked back to my cell. Rump wasn't there, so I allowed myself to cry on my bed. I tried not to mention it this whole entry, but I miss my Dad. I miss my mom. I miss my uncle and aunt and cousin. But most of all, I wish my mom was here to hold me, and tell me everything is going to be okay. I can't help but wonder what I did wrong to deserve my family dying, being sent here, and being _touched _by that woman. I know I can't cry or show any weakness in front of the other boys; if I do, I _know _they'll beat me up.

I don't know how long I can hold it together anymore, if you can even say I'm doing that. Every time I think of what that woman has been doing to me, I freeze up and start to have a little bit of a nervous break-down, so I avoid thinking about it at all costs.

I can't think about the circus or my Mama, or I know I'll start crying again. Heck, I start crying every time I'm in the room alone. I'm such a coward. I never even got to say goodbye. I'd do anything to have my Mama back and to have her hug me again. I never knew how much I'd miss her voice saying, "I love you, Robin." Thank you for listening; you're the only friend I have at the moment.

I have to go now. Ms. Bumblebottom is coming to get me any second, and I don't want her to see this. I don't know what would happen if she did. You, you piece of paper and pencil, are my only emotional outlet. I'm afraid if I lost you I'd go insane, and they'd sent me to the asylum. I can hear the footsteps now.

Goodbye for now.

Richard J. Grayson

**I know that this chapter doesn't have enough of his emotions until the end, but I want you to remember that people can ****_chose _****what they write, and this isn't his direct thoughts. I also want you to keep in mind that he knows that if he shows weakness in front of the other boys that they will ****_really _****beat him up. **

**Thank you all so much for reading any reviewing! REMEMBER TO REVIEW!**


	3. All your Fault

**Thank you for all the reviews! You guys are cool. If you notice, no one's giving Dick time to grieve, so he's adapting. But don't worry; he'll grieve all right…Also I had to choose between the plot and style I wanted for my story, or make Dick like a stereotypical grieving child. But I'm telling you right now, so you ****_better _****be reading; ****_DICK IS STILL IN SHOCK. THE REALITY OF HIS PARENT'S DEATH HASN'T SUNK IN, BUT IT _****_WILL. _****_THAT'S WHY HE HARDLY SEEMS TO BE GREIVING. _**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice. Nor do I own Hetalia…**

**Okay don't worry! Dick won't be in the awful place for too much longer!**

_November 10 2005_

I know that I've gone a few months without writing, but I haven't had the chance to. I'm literally monitored 24/7. It got to the point where I was so sick of it, that I almost snapped. Then I remembered that my cousin taught me a few handy hacking skills, and, well, you can figure out the rest.

However, my brilliant hacking plan backfired. I was pulled into Ms. (if you can call her that) Bumblebottom's office and, well you know what she does to me in there.

After that last time in her office, I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I _had _to get out of there, no matter what; the older kids beat me up, taunted me, the food was so horrible, I thought I was going to puck half the time I ate it, but I was so hungry it didn't matter, and on top of all that, Ms. Bumblebottom does what she does to me. I had enough.

Every so often, they took us out to the mines for work. I'm pretty sure it's illegal, but we can't really do anything about it. I'm the smallest kid, and no one really notices me. So when they were giving us all our tools and the necessities and unloading the canaries, I snuck out of there. As soon as I thought it was safe, I ran. The really underestimated kids. It was no wonder why so many of us escaped.

I wondered how often kids got thrown into Juvenile Hall because there was no room in any orphanage. Apparently all too often because no one was surprised I was there…even Ms. Bumblebottom said I was another reject.

I ran into what appeared to be an abandoned apartment and sat down to catch my breath. I stopped and actually thought for a moment; what now? I didn't have my Mom or Dad or Aunt or Uncle or cousin to take care of me, and I would've rather died then go back to Juvie or any orphanage…

My family was dead. All of a sudden, it hit me. My family was dead. They were never coming back. I was all alone to fend for myself in the world. There was no one that cared for me anymore. I was no longer a prized circus acrobat. I was simply another orphaned kid on the streets with no family. I wasn't significant in any possible way; I was nothing special, nothing extraordinary.

I had never realized before that moment that they were really…_gone. _And they weren't coming back.

In that moment, I fell to the floor and held myself. And for the first time since the "accident", I really let myself just cry.

It wasn't fair; I was a good kid; the worst I did was hack into the government and play a few harmless pranks. My mom didn't deserve to die, my dad didn't deserve to die, my cousin didn't deserve to die, my aunt didn't deserve to die, and my uncle didn't deserve to die. And most of all, I didn't deserve to be left behind.

Why do these things happen? People say everything happens for a reason and that it's all in God's plan; well, god must be a sadist if I've ever seen one if he like to kill people off and watch the ones left behind suffer. Right then, I really hoped there was no big plan. I hoped that my family's death had been a huge mistake in the book. I couldn't-_can't _handle that it was meant to happen.

"I just want to go home. I want to go back to the circus and play with Zitka. I want my mom to hug me again. I want my cousin to start teaching me how to steal furniture without getting caught. I want my dad and my uncle to start arguing over who's the better acrobat. I want my aunt to teach me her native language of Russian. I just want this nightmare to end for good. I wish that man never…" I stopped my mindless ranting as I thought of the man I saw with Mr. Haley. He said something about what act I was in, and that he was going to be sure to watch me. Mr. Haley was so mad at him…was it possible that he could've…

I bit my lip as a whole new blood of tears started streaming down my face. The pain kept on getting worse and worse…it wouldn't stop. The images of them kept of playing in my mind over and over again like a broken DVD. I started shaking and crying all over again. "Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," I cried. I wanted, _needed _someone to blame. It couldn't have been an accident; my mom wouldn't have just-it wasn't an accident. It was that man who caused all of this. It was his entire fault. He did that to them. He took them away from me and skipped his way merrily out of all charges. But he was going to pay. It was his fault they died. His fault I was orphaned. His fault I ended up Ms. Bumblebottom's play thing. I wanted someone to blame, and I got. It. That man was going to pay even if it was the last thing I'd ever do.

First, I just had to figure out how to live. Well I am emotionally stressed and tired. I'm going to go to sleep now, and part of me hoped I'll never wake up. But the other part of me knows I have to in order to get the man.

Until next time, goodbye.

Richard J. Grayson

**Okay, so I would really appreciate criticism. Please be gentle though...not too mean…this was a little short, but I just had to get a chapter in there where all he does is grieves because even though he is a hecka strong thing, he's a kid. I didn't want to make him unrealistically pathetic either…I hate it when people write suicide stuff about Robin, and they portray him as a weak-willed person who is so dependent on everyone else. I just tried to make a point that in my fict, he is stronger than that. Don't get me wrong, I've actually liked most suicide ficts about Robin, but there's a reason he hasn't really done it; he's a survivor and that's how I'm portraying him in this story. **


	4. New Year Resolutions

**Sorry for taking so long to update. /:**

**RJG Lover: I'm sorry I almost made you cry…but I'm glad you liked it!**

**Sairey13: Yeah, Dick sort of hangs out with the, but they're not really his "friends". Have you ever seen the movie Holes or read the book? If so, the relationship is kind of like Stanley's and the other people at the camp. Ms. Bumblebottom probably does that to any cute little boy who's there too…I'm so glad this is fan****_fiction. _**

**SnowWhiteAppleSauce: If you can tell me how, and you please beta the next chapter? I'm still fairly new to fanfiction…And the gist is that he learned English and Romanian at the same time, and I also didn't want to try to write it like he had poor English. That would be harder on my part, and I'm not too fond of that style unless it's in dialect. I'm sort of challenging myself as it is. Baby steps now…I'm still learning, so I thank you for your advice.**

**Kekejo99: That's my plan for later on. (:**

**Scotty1609: YES! Finally, someone understands where I'm coming from! Thank you for your feedback, and I'm sorry I made you cry…**

**I would like to thank you all for reviewing! I only do this reply to all reviews when I feel like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice.**

_January 1 2006_

It's me again. It's the beginning of a new year, and I've decided, a new start. This year's going to be different. I have a number of goals I'm working towards, and I intend to keep good on them, especially if I'm going to survive.

Number one is to never ever go to a foster home or orphanage again. No more Mrs. Bumble Butt's for me.

Number two is to catch the man. I will never forget what he looks like. But I don't have to do that now; everyone always gets what's coming to them.

Number three is to find my families' graves. I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral.

Number four is to perfect my hacking skills. They could come in handy. I never thought I would be so thankful for my cousin's illegal habits.

Number five is to be happy, _truly _happy, at least once this year. Though, that's not a huge goal either, and maybe an impossible one.

I can't think of anymore at the moment, but if I do later on, I'll let you know.

I haven't written in a couple months; I know this. I've just been busy with different things. Different foster homes have caught me, making me feel like a stray dog, and I've been forced to stay at a few crummy ones. I guess it's because of my circus upbringing, but I have always managed to escape. One particularly fat man made me sleep with the ferrets. Gah, that was awful. Ferrets poop wore than pigeons, and that's saying something.

I knew if I stayed in Gotham, I would end up eventually being sent into prison. Or another orphanage, but really, what's the difference? So, I started traveling around. Going here and there, a little bit of everywhere. No, I don't walk; I mainly stow away on trains. For some reason, I always seem to go back to Gotham. I don't know why, and I'm a little scarred to. But I just can't _leave. _There's something pulling me towards Gotham, and I don't know what.

The more and more I fade into the background, the easier it is to figure things out. Something I satisfied myself with was being a little detective. I've always been fascinated by detectives, and have always loved Sherlock Holmes novels. I'm getting pretty good too; I can sometimes solve the police men's case before them. Well, not really solve it; I guess the majority of the time they know who committed the crime, and are mainly trying to come up with solid proof or evidence. But that's beside the point!

Lately the thing that's been on my mind the most is the identity of superheroes. If you really stop to think about it, what kind of person would contently dedicate their whole live to just fighting crime? The natural answer would be a crazy person. A crazy _good _person, that is. Everyone has to have a reason, right? I mean someone can't just get out of bed one day and say, "Gee, I think I'll take up the career of a crime fighter and risk my life every day! But it's alright; it'll be just like an awesome and terrifying roller coaster!" Well, I guess they could, but they wouldn't actually do it.

On a different note, I like to read. Usually it would be fiction from different cultures or mythology, but lately there's been this one book I "borrowed" from a local book store in New York, and it's called Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl. It's a little hard to read sometimes, because it's written in an old fashioned style. Not as hard as Shakespeare or anything, but definitely not Doctor Seuss. I just have to think a little bit more about what's being written then I normally would. Do you know this book? It's pretty famous. It's the diary of a girl named Anne Frank who dreamed of becoming a famous author, but her dreams were shattered because she was a Jew during the holocaust. I read about that too. You probably already know what that was, so I won't go into that either.

I really like Anne. Even though I've never met her, she seems like the kind of person I'd want as a friend. I wish I had a friend like Anne, and I wish I could have been her friend. Unfortunately, we're both alone in that category.

When I think of Hitler and all the wrongdoings he had done, I can't help but wonder what made him do that. He wasn't just being evil; if he was, he'd be like the Joker. An insane person. I think he really believed with all his heart that Jews were evil. Well, as intelligent as they say he was that was a pretty stupid call in my opinion.

I wonder what was going through the man who killed my families mind. Revenge for not getting what he wanted? Probably. I hope I never know.

You're probably wondering how I'm living. To answer your question, on the streets, as you've probably presumed. I try to only steal as much as I need because I know it's wrong. But is it so wrong to help save a life? I don't think so. Only if you're not stealing too much, or robbing from a goodwill home, then I think it's alright. What's the worst that could happen? The store loses a few bucks, whoop Dee do! I need to live, and no one will help me. I am, after all, just an orphaned kid on the streets no more significant than the rest. I am nothing special, but I used to be. Now I am no better that another parentless kid.

You know how earlier I mentioned that I kind of liked to try to find out superheroes identities? Well, I discovered a few. I have a lot of spare time on my hands. The easiest one was Superman. I viewed all the photos of the men in his county, and Clark Kent fit the best description. Next was Green Arrow. I did the same thing I did with Supey. It's not that hard to attain all the photos; all you got to know is the right access codes. Oliver Queen is also a pretty big face. That's all so far. I want to try and figure out all of them. I have a feeling that Batman will be the hardest. He seems like the only one who really knows how to keep a secret identity.

I can't help but wonder how many other orphans out there figured out super heroes identities, and nobody will ever know they did because they're nobodies like me. My guess is it's not as rare as a person would think.

Number six is to find out all superheroes identities.

There; I think I got them all. Oh, there's one more.

Number seven is to remember and improve your acrobat skills.

What can I say? Old habits die hard. I have nothing more to say for the moment, so once again, goodbye for now.

Richard J. Grayson

**Like always, please review and tell me what you think! Criticism, ideas, your input, and advice are all very welcome! Thank you for reading, and don't forget to REVIEW!**


	5. Happy Birthday

_March 21 2006_

It's me again. Did you expect anyone else? Really? Naw, I didn't think so. Anyways, life's been alright as far as being orphaned goes so far. It could be worse.

My family always loved to watch American cinemas. Mom always said they were the best there is. I never particularly liked Tom Hanks until I saw the movie Forest Gump. I guess that after I saw that I came to have a new respect for the man that I'd never had before. I liked that movie as movies go, but I never understood some parts of it and Mom covered my eyes and ears at certain places. She said they were too gown-up for me, whatever that means. Mom and Aunt Karla always said that the purpose of the movie was the phrase, "Mama always said life is like a box of chocolates. You'll never know what you'll get." I didn't really understand, but they said I will someday.

I haven't written in a few months, but I have been busy. Remember how I said that I like to take on a little detective work? Well I found out a few superheroes identities. Flash is Barry Allen. He was a little harder because of the cowl, but no too hard. All you have to do is listen to his banter and snag a blood sample when he got hurt. How, you ask, did I get a hold of the technology to do a blood analysis? Well, I'll just say I did a little more stealing and sneaking around than I let on. I could bore you with how I found out more superheroes identities, but there's only one guy that I'm really interested in. Can you guess who I'm talking about? Let me give you a hint; he has probably the most stupid hero name there is. That's right; the _Batman. _Seriously, how did he get that name?

Moving on now, I hacked into records (I really need to steal myself a computer) of all of Gotham, and analyzed all men who fit the criteria carefully. What can I say? I have a lot of free time. The more and more I searched, the more and more I thought that Bruce Wayne was the only one who really fit the image. He has the money, he has the resources, and, and I checked all records of Batman's appearances, he has never ever been seem in the same place as the big bad bat. Kind of interesting when you think about it, huh?

Of course with his big billionaire playboy façade, he'd be the very last person you'd think of when it comes to Batman. Ironically, that's exactly why he'd fit the criteria. Batman's one of the most intelligent people on earth, right? So he would but on this act just to draw all suspicion away from him is pretty brilliant, right? If you erased all the playboy and cocky rumors about Mr. Wayne, he'd be the perfect suspect. Though, he could be a guy exactly like Batman in his civilian identity to make the smart people think that the guy who's nothing like Batman is Batman, and they'd never suspect a guy who'd like Batman because that's be too obvious! Sorry, my Mom always told me that I'm so smart I leave less intelligent people in the dust. I just hope you followed that, because I'm not going to re-explain.

However, he could just be a guy who's nothing like Batman so the really smart people that think that Batman is just like Batman because not being like Batman would be too obvious would never really guess who he is! That leaves the stupid or normal intelligence people looking for a guy who's like Batman, the smart people looking for a guy who's nothing like Batman, and the really smart people looking for someone who's like Batman. The smallest category of people are the smart people who are looking for a guy who's nothing like Batman, and the largest category are the stupid, regular intelligence people and really smart people looking for a guy who's just like Batman. So, he would naturally go to façade of nothing like Batman in civilian life because that has the lesser percentage of the intelligence groups. So, I'm pretty sure that Bruce Wayne is Batman.

Wait; Bruce Wayne is also known to be generous and intelligent too, so he's a little like Batman, and not like Batman at the same time! Batman, or Bruce, is a really smart guy. That right there completely devoid him of all suspicion from all groups of people! People either expect someone to not be like Batman at all or completely like him. Never in between. Of all the intelligent people in the world, he really takes the cake.

Cake. That reminds me; it's my birthday today also known as the first day of spring. It doesn't fell like it. At this time, the circus would always plan to be in a sunny place just for me, usually in the United States, so we could all go bird watching for robins. I don't know if there are robin's in Gotham. Why would they want to? No bird, especially a robin, would want to be in a place as cold and miserable like Gotham with the smell of suffering practically in the air.

I had almost forgotten my own birthday. I wish I had; I wish I had forgotten my family too as horrible as that sounds. It just causes too much pain when I think of them. No kid wants to be alone on their birthday. Happy nine years to me.

Maybe I should find a little cake, just to make it a little more familiar. My Aunt Karla was always the best cook. She would always do all the birthday cakes and almost always make dinner. She would always tell me that I was her favorite nephew, even though she had some blood related to her back in Romania. Aunt Karla was the only one with blood relatives back in the homeland, and I guess, by extension, Uncle Rick and my cousin too.

Well, I better go get some dinner now. I'm getting kind of hungry and haven't eaten in a while. So, I guess I'll talk to you the next time I talk to you. Even though I know you're not a real person and you're just a sheet of paper bound together with more sheets of paper, it's nice to delude myself that someone cares. It makes me feel more like a person and less like just another flesh blob on the street.

_Richard J. Grayson_

**Okay, so I think next chapter will be a time skip…what do you guys think? I'm kind of anxious to get to the parts that involve the team, and I want to know if you guys are too. Truthfully, I really think that there wouldn't be all of the sidekicks of it weren't for Robin because he was the first. But, for purpose of the story, they'll (mostly) all be there. So give me your input on that, and I'll see you later. Well, I won't really see you, but you get the gist.**


	6. The Mines

**I finally updated! Sorry, I'm just more motivated with my other story Flipped because, well, it's more popular. But I'm not creating any more stories until I finish this one and A Literal Blast from the Past. If I wasn't almost done with that one I would abandon it…but I am almost done, so no worries!**

**Sorry for making you wait so long…I'll get on with it!**

**Disclaimer: Pretty self-explanatory…**

_June _ 2007_

Wow, it's been what, over a year since my last entry? I'm sorry, but I really haven't found time to write. My life has been pretty busy this past year with everything that's been happening. I guess I'll start from where I left off.

As you know, I ran from the Juvenile Detention Center in Gotham and started being a street rat. I even stole a loaf of bread so I could feel like I have something in common with Aladdin and Jean Val jean. To get to the point, I was alone, living on the streets with less than nothing. I was living like that for a few months before I was found by the Social Services for kids or something. With closer examination of my papers, they found I wasn't a legal U.S citizen and therefore the government had no claim on me. My family had a contract with the circus about it; I don't know the whole details, but it had something to do with as long as where're with Haley's, we're good wherever we go. However, where I _was _a legal citizen was good old Romania, where I was born. I was deported to an orphanage less than a week later. Have you ever been to one? No? Well, let me tell you that they're worse than Gotham. How is that so you as? All I'll say is that Romanian orphanages are very similar to Russian ones is _Siberia. _Though, it wasn't _all _bad. For one, the warden lady was very kind. But we didn't get beds having to sleep on the floor basically in a giant dog pile and we ate grits. Grits! Come on, we were in in Europe, not Texas! On top of that, I was bullied for being deported. It seems like everywhere I go the mucus filled sacs they call god's gift on Earth always find something wrong with me.

_Moving on, _that only lasted two months before some goons killed the nice warden lady and introduced us orphans to the back market. In other words, we were soon turned into slaves. Most of us were secretly sold into foster care, but the kids that no one wanted because we were too "unmanageable" were sent to the mines. Guess who was labeled one of the undesirables? That's right, yours truly. I thought that if I'd misbehaved, they'd let me go back to a crumby orphanage. I was dead wrong; I should've acted nice and charming to get sold, but no. I had to be a pain in their butts. I was transported to Poland to work in salt mines with other undesirable kids that no one would miss.

The only other kid that was as rowdy as me as to get sent to the mines was a boy a few years older than me with red hair. I think his name was something like Robert Hammer, or Rice Hops, or maybe Hoy Rarper? Those are all horrible names, so I'm sure it's none of those, but it's the closest I got to actually remembering the guy's name. He was just as bad as I was, spitting on the buyers, biting our handlers hard enough to bleed, and whatnot. Not that I was any better, but you get the gist of things.

The big difference between Red and I was that Red did everything he did out of anger, but I just did what I did to annoy the poop out of everyone I could. It was really amusing. That and I thought I'd just be sent back to an orphanage.

I'm not going to even try to describe the conditions Red and I had to work in at the salt mines. It was, _is, _agonizing and just hard work. I can't help but admire Red. He stands up for himself, and seems to never give up or lose hope. He inspires me to do the same. Pretty soon rumors started circulating around that Red was from some sort of Native American tribe and was a pretty mean archer. I immediately passed them off as stupid rumors that aren't true. Seriously, people were trying to say that a ginger was Native American? Please, what moron would believe that?

Kids at the salt mine are rough and life hasn't been too kind to them. That's pretty much a given considering they're here in the first place. All of them have no families or no one to care about them. Those are the exact kids the black market looks for because no one's going to go looking for them. I start to feel bad for them and wish I could do something for them before I remember that I'm in the exact same position. _You come first; _I had to keep reminding myself.

This place is crawling with diseases. Sadly it is very common to see a thin kid coughing up blood like there's no tomorrow to just collapse on the ground a second later. Others are beaten to near death for disobeying and die from their injuries and lack of nourishment in the dead of night. I will never associate myself with salt _ever again. _

Most of us are beaten down from our hardships in life. It was only after they found two kids bleeding with their wrists slit in the bathroom and one who strung himself up in the doorway before they started monitoring us more closely. We had a tighter schedule with even fewer breaks than we had before.

The government here absolutely sucks. You'd think that they would pay closer attention to whose doing the hard labor in the mines. No, they just accept the salt. I have no idea what day it is, only the month and year. It's really hard to keep track of time down here. That's why I left the day spot blank.

There's this older boy who everyone likes and his name is Fleck. Or, that's what everyone calls him. He's really kind to me, always giving me extra food, and making sure no one's too mean to me. He and Red (the boy I told you about earlier) but heads a lot, but for the most part they get along fine. I guess I better go now; there's not much else to say.

_Richard J. Grayson_

_July _ 2007_

Do you remember the boy with red hair I told you about a month ago? Well, I remember his name now. His name was Roy Harper, and they were wrong to have brought him to the mines. Turns out he _did _have someone looking out for him. That someone was none other than Green Arrow or Oliver Queen. I don't know how they know each other or whatnot, but apparently old Ollie was going to take Roy in as a ward, bit he mysteriously went missing. Months later he found out Roy was taken into the Black Market and put into labor at the mines here with a little good fashion detective work. I know, surprising right? Normally Batman is the detective of the Justice League, but I guess this was a unique situation for the millionaire Oliver Queen. No doubt he had help from Bats, but still it was pretty good for the archer. I have a feeling Green Arrow's going to have a partner sometime soon.

Most of the kids were put into foster care, but some of us ran away afraid of what would happen. I was one of the some that ran. With all my bad experiences, of _course _I'd run away.

This whole experience just reminds me that I need to learn how to defend myself and fast. If I don't, I really don't know what would happen to me. I've learned how to hack a little bit on my own skill, but nothing too big and I was defiantly traceable. Luckily there were too many hackers already so that no one really paid attention to me. If I want to become good, I'll need more guidance and mentoring. The main question is who could teach me? It wouldn't be too hard because I'm already a world-class acrobat. Maybe I'm a little out of practice, but I could quickly get back into shape.

The best fighters are in Eastern Europe or Asia Minor; I can start my search there. How would I get there? Well I will inform you that there is a leading transportation system known to all hobos out there that is rather easy to use if you have any type of brain. I call it, the stowaway system.

I'm going to find myself a trainer.

_Richard J. Grayson_

**I wanted to make those two parts separate but still in the same chapter…Please Update! Thoughts, criticism and advice are all very welcome. If you appreciate this, then you'll REVIEW!**

**Okay, seriously I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, ****_REALLY _****want your ideas! I'm a little shaky with the whole story line, and I just thought that adding Roy in there n whim was a cool idea. Please give me your thoughts by REVIEWING! **


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